


She is What I Call Home

by michellejones



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Lots of Allydia, Minor Lydia Martin/Stiles Stilinski, RIP Allison Argent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2014-08-04
Packaged: 2018-02-11 18:51:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2079264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/michellejones/pseuds/michellejones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia, Scott, and Stiles reflect on the loss of their friend, Allison.</p>
            </blockquote>





	She is What I Call Home

Lydia misses having someone to talk to. She misses people listening to her and trusting her and loving her, even though they may have every reason not to. She misses her best friend. Lydia misses Allison, and she is someone she can never get back.

It wakes her up in the middle of the night, screaming at the top of her lungs. She sinks her nails into the fabric of her shorts, tears down her face and her hair matted against her forehead. She breathes in and out, willing herself to not think about it, not think about her; willing herself not to remember. But she can't. She can't not remember the pain that ripped through her chest with a scream. She feels that pain and the urge to scream, even now. It's been five months, at least, but it's felt like years.

Scott hears her every time. He finds her in bed, curled into a ball, her lips soaked red with wine and blood from her teeth biting down on them. He holds her, and she rests her head on his chest. Her silent cries are hardly masked, even by the downpour of rain outside. He whispers it's okay's into her ear as she shuts her eyes tightly with a whimper. Her forehead is wet with sweat as she leans against him.

“I miss her,” she tells him.

It's when he kisses her forehead like he did Allison's that she realizes he's crying, too.

“Scott,” she pleads with a croak. “I'm _sorry_.”

 x

She arrives at school the next day with her meticulously applied makeup and her hair perfectly curled, not a single strand out of place. Scott watches her from across the hall, fumbling mindlessly through his locker. He turns away from her for a moment, finding his pre-calc notes and stuffing them into his backpack. He slams his locker door shut, coming face-to-face with Stiles. He peers over his friend's shoulder, but she's gone. He huffs out a sigh.

“Stiles,” he says roughly. He shakes his head. “What's up?”

“Is something wrong?” Stiles puts a hand on Scott's shoulder, giving him a soft look.

“I'm worried about Lydia. She's been getting really freaked at night.” There's a part of him that feels guilty for telling Stiles this. This was between Scott and Lydia only, but she needs people in her life other than him. “Can you please check up on her?”

“Yeah,” he says. He sounds a bit breathless. Stiles presses his lips together. “Sure thing, Scott.”

x

He hears her crying in the bathroom. He feels the scream building inside her, from the hollow of her throat to the roof of her mouth. When she begins dry heaving, he texts her.

_Lydia, it's okay. Stiles is going to take you home._

Her reply comes in seven minutes later. _Tell him to bring me one of his hoodies. My hair is a mess._

 x

Lydia sits in Stiles's Jeep silently after slipping on his red hoodie. He is looking at her, and she is pretending like she doesn't notice, resting her head against the window. She hums gently through gritted teeth. She can feel his gaze burning through her, even as she closes her eyes.

“Take me to her grave,” she demands mid-hum. He doesn't budge.

“Lydia, I don't think that's a good-”

“Stiles.” The way she says his name leaves no room for negotiation. He turns the Jeep around.

 x

They're at the top of a mountain, looking down at all the lights. She had been here with Allison once. Allison had loved how the city looked between the trees. It had lit her lips into a smile, and she told Lydia she wanted to dance. So they did. It's probably the best memory she has of her.

It's now where her grave lies.

Lydia screams. She screams at the top of her lungs. It tears through her and blinds her with tears as she falls to the ground. Stiles holds her against him as she chokes for air.

“Breathe, Lydia. _Breathe_.”

“I don't want to!” Her hands are knotted into her hair. He pulls her up and into him, placing a hand onto the back of her head. She rests her chin on his shoulder. She whispers, “I could've saved her.”

x

Allison was the key. She was the key to the dead pool. And on that dead pool, was her name. And Scott's. So maybe it was meant to be.

Lydia doesn't want to be dead, but she almost feels like she deserves it.

It's a sickness. It's a sickness the way Scott holds her at night, trying to convince her otherwise, because he knows. He had felt the same way about, and now, about Allison. But he has people to protect. Lydia just has the voices. The voices don't help anymore, but she keeps trying. She will never stop trying. Not when the person that matters the most has already slipped through her fingertips.

Her name a hushed whisper beneath Scott's breath is what puts her to sleep. He stays with her until morning.

x

No one took Allison's locker after she died. Lydia refused to let anyone touch it, even though her pleads had came in the form of an order. Scott held onto her hand, and never did it waver. Not even as she cursed at the principal, did he say words other than, “It's okay, Lydia. It's okay,” in her ear.

Lydia knew she wasn't coming back, but she couldn't stop getting the feeling that she was going to look over her shoulder and see her staring right back at her. Even by the time it'd been six months since she passed, Lydia hadn't stopped bringing the shade of lip gloss that looked best on Allison to school, because she always felt like Allison was going to be sitting behind her in English, asking to borrow it when her lips started to feel dry.

She remembers the way she licked her lips when she got nervous. At the beginning of the year, when Scott would sit beside her, she would apply it a lot to distract her from his hair she missed running her hands through. She always told Lydia that his skin was so soft, but now his palms are rough, and Lydia can't help feeling sad that Allison would never know that. She would never get to be with him again, while Lydia is with him every night. And she doesn't deserve it.

x

She stands with a microphone in front of the entire school. This usually would not make her nervous, but she doesn't want to cry. This is for Allison.

She doesn't trust any of these people. The only person Lydia ever trusted was her. And Scott, of course, but that's never the same. Losing Allison was like losing herself. She still feels as if she has no one.

“They say she's a scar, but that is one of the most untrue things I have ever heard.” Lydia's knuckles turn white as she grips onto the microphone with all she has, to keep from crying. She meets Stiles's eyes from across the room. He nods. She looks to Scott.

“She is an open wound.” She watches his fingers run up and down his arm, lingering on where the fire had seared his skin. “They asked me to open my eyes the next morning, but I refused. I had to, because it was too soon to open my eyes and realize this world is still real without her. That life like hers could be lost and the world could still go on.

“The moment it hit her, I felt it. I knew what was about to happen. I can't explain it, but I did. And I knew that life would never be the same, or anywhere near okay, without her. I can't tell you how much I love her, and how much I will always love her. It wouldn't do her justice. But since she's no longer a person, she is a wound. And that hurts”—this is where she starts crying—“more than _anything_ to have to say.” She regains her composure after a minute, her makeup still damp underneath her eyes. “That's something that will never heal.” She presses her lips together, glancing down at the hand trembling by her side. “I don't regret knowing her, even though it came with this pain. I had to know her to know myself.” A ghost of a smile now plays on her lips. “And she will always feel alive to me for that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Allison Argent was such a formative character for me, and she continues to inspire me to this day. I really hope you guys liked it.


End file.
